


Thunderstorm - or - Cold Shower: Part Two

by Dominion_of_Dust1886



Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, Don't mind Tom as he takes off his shirt, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Bondage, NECK PORN!, Oral Sex, Romance, Sexual Content, Suit Kink, Suit Porn, Suits, Tardis suit Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hiddleston in a suit, Tom makes ME wet..., Waistcoats, Wall Sex, Wet Tom, Why Did I Write This?, can I ride that?, fuck a duck, i need a moment, shit can I ride that?, snake hips, toms neck is sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:11:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominion_of_Dust1886/pseuds/Dominion_of_Dust1886
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wet Tardis suit Tom Hiddleston and reader...I'll let your imagination go from there...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunderstorm - or - Cold Shower: Part Two

_Crack! Rumble..._

You watch the thunderstorm play out before you from the window seat of the flat. Your hands wrapped protectively around the cup of tea as another lightning bolt shoots across the sky. The searing white illuminated the entire darkened neighborhood.

“Hmm,” you say, taking a tentative sip of tea, still way too hot for you to appreciate, “the god of thunder is a smidge angry.”

Earlier, when the storm was just shafts of lightning, it knocked out the power around half the city. It was unfortunate, since today, you planned a movie night with Tom. Soda, popcorn, your favorite candy, the works. You even set up a mock movie screen along the wall, displaying the items of Tom’s movie carrier.

Then again, as you look back into the flat, all lit up with the golden glow of candles, strewn about the living room; it looks good. Dramatic.

Romantic.

You hear the wind pick up, followed by the heavy patter of rain smacking hard on the roof. Damn, the sudden downpour might hinder Tom’s drive back.

That thought alone is enough to make you nervous; you’re not normally skittish with storms, you look forward to them, in fact. But you enjoy curling up in Tom’s arms, watching the natural wonder in the safety of his embrace. You worry that he might get stuck in traffic, an accident...Or...

 _No_ , you chide yourself. _You’re overreacting. Tom will be home soon._

No sooner do you convince yourself, you hear the doorknob turning. You also hear a thud, followed by a muffled _shit_ , behind the door.

You stifle a giggle. Tom’s swearing you find adorable.

The door finally opens, revealing that handsome man you are glad to say is yours. This morning, he was impeccable in his three piece ‘Tardis’ suit, as you call it. All starched, crisp lines that shown his tall, lean figure well.

Instead, he walks in all soaked, head to toe. The suit rumpled and dark, clinging to his lanky frame.

 _Shit_ , you think, _I have always wondered_.

Secretly, you always wanted him to replay the 1883 photoshoot he did in the bathtub, but he always told you it was ridiculous. Even more with the ‘Tardis’ suit; that one piece a huge turn on to you.

You immediately get up from your seat, setting your tea on a side table. You walk up to him as he swipes a goodly amount of water out of his eyes.

“Tom,” you say, clutching his shoulder, “goodness, you’re soaking wet!”

Tom runs his hand through his hair, the ends sticking up messily, “I’m sorry, love. Got caught.”

“Doing what?” You say as you detour to the bathroom and gathered up a couple of fluffy towels. “You felt like a swim?”

You open one of the towels, draping it over his head.

He smirks at you, “Mrs. Flannagan.”

You smirk back in understanding. Mrs. Flannagan was the nice 83 year old widow neighbor of yours. She was a bubbly sort, inviting both you and Tom over for tea on the weekends. You personally enjoy her company, reminding you of your grandmother, back home. She even confided in you of her approval of Tom; well, mostly how handsome his bum is.

“What is she doing out in a storm like this?” You question as you ruffle the towel through Tom’s locks.

“Late grocery run. She has family coming over this weekend, so I helped her bring in her groceries.” He placed his hands at your waist, “it was the least I could do.”

You drape the towel over his shoulders, “how wonderful her family is visiting.” And planted a kiss on his lips, “and how sweet of you,” you kiss him again, pressing your lips harder to his own.

He pulls you closer, his wet clothes cold, which you yelp in surprise. He tilts back, but you keep ahold on the ends of the towel, hindering him.

“Darling,” Tom says, “I’m soaking wet.”

“Hmm,” you say, gently swaying your waist, your intimate area already sensitive, “so am I.” You tug the towel, bringing his lips back to yours.

He obliges to your wanton advance, clinging to your body, need in his actions. He wrenches at his jacket, trying the wet fabric from his arms. He pulls the garment free, letting it fall to the floor with a plop! He then lifts you by the waist as you wrap your arms round his neck, to which he takes you and presses you against the wall by the window seat.

You feel his tongue dart out as you open your mouth to receive it. Your breath is heavy as his fingers roam about your backside, squeezing your bottom through your lounge pants. You gently bite his lower lip, a little quirk he seemed to enjoy. He moans, running his left hand up your ribs to clutch your right breast.

“Damn it,” you moan against his lips.

You pull back to tug off your lounge top, revealing your bare, heaving chest, the round fullness of your breasts bare to the warm glow of the candlelight. Tom rests his forehead against yours, his fingers tentatively touching the curve of your breast.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, the smell of rain and his scent mingling together to waft into your nose. “How can I be so lucky to have you?”

You feel your heart skip a beat as he drags his thumb over your already rigid nipple. He kisses your cheek, his long lashes trailing butterfly kisses in it’s wake. You tip your head back as he begins a fiery trail along your jaw to your ear.

Tom nibbles your lobe, your own fingers work their way to the waistcoat over his torso. Your digits make quick work on the 6 slick buttons, opening the blue fabric to the white shirt underneath. You spread it slowly open, enjoying the shiver that ran through Tom’s body. His skin color peaking out in places where the wet fabric clung to his fair skin. He notices, to which he switches places with you; his back to the wall, you half naked in front of him.

He lets you slide the waistcoat off as he tugs down your lounge pants. He succeeds, sliding the garment off your bottom while you struggle with the waistcoat.

Tom smiles at you, “problems, darling?”

“Maybe,” you say, frowning slightly, feverently kissing him again. Your lips are extremely swollen by the time you get the waistcoat off and added to the ever growing pile on the floor.

He grabs your bottom in both hands, squeezing slightly.

You, in turn, slip off the tie around his neck, pulling it loose from it’s knot, yet letting it dangle from round his neck. He watches you with hooded eyes as you begin undoing the dress shirt. With every removed button, you place a chaste kiss upon his bare skin.

Button.

Kiss.

Button.

Kiss.

Finally, you finish the process, Tom’s naked stomach lay before you, an Adonis, chest undulating in the candlelight. You kiss the spot just below his navel as you begin undoing his trousers. His breath catches as your hands work on the zipper, brushing against his massive arousal. You’re surprised he lasted this long.

“And here I thought,” you say, sliding the trousers down his legs, “you’d not be in the mood.” You slide your hand over the boxer briefs, to which Tom’s head banged against the wall.

He lets loose an undignified moan.

You grab the unused towel next to you, “but like you said, you’re soaking wet.” You begin patting the towel over his stomach, grabbing the waistband of the boxer briefs and slowly tugged them down.

“Ahh...” Tom groaned.

You look up at him innocently, patting his thigh, “I wouldn’t want you to catch cold,” you kiss the base of his cock.

Tom’s knees buckled, his own hands scrabbling for some sort of hand hold on the wall.

You rub the towel over his long legs as you slowly lick his cock, never taking him fully in your mouth. At the tip, you swirl your tongue once bout it’s circumference before tracing back down the other side to the base.

Your eyes take in his heavy breathing, his flushed skin (which is now covered in sweat), your hand with the towel now between his legs, massaging his balls with the soft fabric.

You notice that he is quite stiff, “oh, dear. Don’t tell me you’re all ready?”

He nods, gulping.

You smile back, “maybe...more swearing may do the trick.” You take him fully in your mouth.

“Ugh! Oh...” Tom’s back arches, “hrnn...ahh _fuck_!”

You laugh, pulling your mouth along his shaft, circling your tongue round the head, then back down. You then stop, moving your tongue, gently sucking.

All the while, Tom is swearing like a sailor at the top of his lungs.

“FUCK! URNG...AH! DAMN! FUCKING BOLLOCKS! FUCKING SHITTING BOLLOCKS!”

You bring your arms up, lightly tickling his stomach as you take him faster and faster. In. Out. In. Out.

His breath coming faster.

In. Out.

His breath hitches as his voice drops an octave.

In.

His member stiffens in your mouth.

Out.

You press on his perineum, stroking that bit of skin.

In.

“Ahhhhhhhh. AAAAAHHHHHHHH! FFFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKK!” Tom releases.

You keep yourself steady on him, his orgasm causing his body to spasm as he ejaculated into your mouth. Legs buckling, back arched as he clutches your head against him. Damn. That release intense.

Once he had finished, you swallow, leaning back as he slides down the wall, a dazed look on his face. You lean over, kissing his forehead.

“Better?” You ask.

Tom’s eyes narrow as he picks you up and places you on the window seat.

“Oh, darling,” he says, clutching your cheek, “we are far from finished.”

He takes off the tie from round his neck and wraps your wrists together. On the window is a small hook for the drapes, which he hooks the tie between your wrists on. It’s not much, but you bend your elbows against the slight strain. You bite your lip as you watch him.

Tom lavishes your breasts with his tongue, licking your nipple before lightly biting the peak. You arch into his advance, his fingers near your mouth, which you take in; sucking them as he suckled your breast. He then trailed his tongue to the other, nipping the curve and making you squeal.

“Mmm,” you moan against his fingers, his other hand now rubbing your stomach.

Oh, gods, you knew what he can do with that tongue, which he then trailed it down to your navel.

Tom’s ever changing eyes take in your expression, sucking on his fingers. He plants a kiss on top of your thigh, causing you to wiggle in your restraints. He removes his fingers from your mouth and tickles your side. You wiggle some more, feeling the towel you...ahem...dried Tom with on your thigh. He kneels before your legs, almost as if in benediction, an honor to you. He lays his hands on your knees and spreads them. He then runs them down the length of your inner thighs, stopping just before reaching your curls.

“My, my,” Tom says as he splays open your pink folds with those long fingers. “You are soaked.”

He runs his thumb feather light over your clit, across your moist opening, then pressed on your perineum.

Oh, _fuck..._

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh, your head turning to the side.

He looks at you, then the towel, “this won’t do, though.” And went down.

His mouth presses against your folds, his tongue darting deep inside you, tasting, probing your arousal. Your fists clench together, head falling back. You’re able to see that the storm outside is picking up again, yet it’s not the only thing.

He presses in his fingers, curling and uncurling them deep inside. He strokes your g-spot in small circles.

“Tom...ugh...you... _shit_...uh...you suck,” you moan, spreading your legs wider.

“Hmm?” He says, “like this?” His tongue somehow cups your clit before catching it lightly in his teeth.

You let out a...could it be?

Tom looks at you, surprised, “darling? Did you...did you just _whimper_?”

“Umm,” you say, cheeks flushing.

“You _did_ ,” he looked extremely pleased. Usually, you were the one making him whimper.

“Well, fuck, darling. I want to hear it again,” he says, before burying his face back in your crotch.

 _Oh, fuck_ , you think, your chest rising quickly.

As undignified as it sounds, you whimper again, his tongue causing your whole body to writhe.

You feel your release rise, almost there, then he stops. He brings his lips to your thigh, brushing his stubble against them. You breathe slightly before he’s back, tonguing your clit. Your release builds, quivering, ready. Again, he stops; this time running his nose over your navel.

Then he went back, teasing.

Again, before you can climax, he’s back to kissing your thigh.

 _How frustrating_ , you think as he works you again. You feel it getting stronger, stronger. Oh, yes. It’s coming, you feel it...almost the-

Stopped.

“Thomas,” you growl.

You hear his laugh as he quickly rises, planting a kiss on your nose.

“This is for earlier, isn’t it?” You pant, your area extremely soaked.

He just smirks, “maybe,” he goes downward, “but I guess I can just...”

He’s back, tongue fondling, pressing the right amount on those nerves, his hands holding you steady.

“Uhn...ah...” you sigh, “hmm...yes...”

His tongue twists one way, then the other, churning, lapping up your arousal. You bite your lip as that ‘delayed gratification’ begins to build again.

“Uh...ah... _AHH_!”

Oh. There you go. You climax hard, hips bucking, head falling back as you scream Tom’s name. Thankfully, a thrum of thunder reverberated at the same time.

Eventually, you calm down enough for him to kiss your belly, then lift your arms off the hook and around his neck. You hungrily claim his lips with yours as he sits down on the floor. You stay on top as he adjusts his recovered arousal, then held onto your hips. He leans back slightly as he gently lowers you down, finally impaling you.

The two of you stay like that for a while; kissing, murmuring, sighing. Your bound hands curl upwards to cup the back of his head, your fingers curling about Tom’s still damp locks. It felt soft and inviting.

He kisses your chin as you begin to grind, your entrance now taking him in and out, up and down. Your forehead rests against his, breaths mingling, sweat pouring off both your bodies.

“Darling-”

“Shh,” you say, pressing your lips to his.

Besides the raging storm, the only sounds are your labored breaths and slapping bodies thrusting against each other.

Your eyes close, jaw clenching slightly. You hear Tom grunt as he pumps you harder, the sensation highly arousing.

You feel Tom stiffen under and in you as he climaxed again, his moans in tandem with his thrusts. He clutched you closer, opening you further, increasing the thrusting.

The warmth in your intimate area begins to spread faster as you came hard. Your walls milking his cock with every thrust. You moan his name and he yours. It was beautiful.

Slowly, the need subsides into twitching muscles; the furrows of coitus playing gently over your bodies.

Tom lays back on the carpet as you pull your bound arms over his head and lay atop him. The two of you remain in copulation, the want to remain one overpowering all other need.

You kiss Tom’s nipple as he runs his fingers along your back, clearly as sated as yourself. You turn your head, watching the storm through the window and listening to Tom’s strong heartbeat. He pulls in a long breath, his own head turning to watch the storm.

“Hmm,” he says, his voice rumbling underneath you, “seems Thor is pissed.”

You sigh in response, snuggling his chest, “yep. Thunder thug ruined our movie night.”

“I wouldn’t say ruined,” his fingers working loose his tie round your wrists. “Memorable, I’d say.”

You toss the tie towards the discarded piles of clothes. You’ll worry about them later.

You prop your chin on your arms, looking up at Tom in the warm glow of the candles, “yeah. I guess you’re right.”

He heaves another sigh, “too bad the power’s out. Could use a cup of tea.”

“Lucky you,” you say, pushing up, “I prepared some before the power cut out. Should still be warm.”

You pull yourself off of him, feeling mighty fine and happy as you skip to the kitchen, pouring him a cup. You prepare it the way he likes it and return to the living room. He’s got the throw blanket ready for the two of you on the floor as you snag your still warm cup from the side table. You hand him his as you curl up next to him, leaning on the bottom portion of the love seat.

“Thank you Mrs. Flannagan,” you say, taking a sip.

“What?” Tom says, sipping his own.

“Oh, you helping her with her groceries and all,” you smirk into your cup. “You know, she really likes your bum.”

He blinks, a thoughtful look crossing his features. “Hmm...that explains why she kept dropping her purse.”

You sputter as he smiles, happily drinking his tea.

You snuggle closer, his arm holding you close.

“Well, instead of a movie,” he kisses your forehead and wraps the two of you in the blanket, “we have fireworks.”

You smile. His optimism was hard to knock down.

So that’s what you did; watched nature’s own movie curled in each other’s arms.


End file.
